


Wounded Bird

by SqueekaCuomo



Category: game of thrones
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-07 11:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueekaCuomo/pseuds/SqueekaCuomo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles written for "sansan_got."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Little Bird/Gilded Cage

****Title:** ** Little Bird/Gilded Cage  
 ** **Rating:** ** PG **  
 **Warning:**** N/A  
 **Summary:** She'd never realized.

****

**Little Bird/Gilded Cage**

He wouldn't hurt her.

Even as Sandor said it, the truth of it seeped into Sansa's bones.

How she hadn't realized it before now Sansa didn't know. But as she stood, staring up at Sandor Clegane, at _the Hound_ , it seemed so obvious. He'd been the one, the only one, who'd tried to help her and protect her. He'd kept her safe from rapists and offered her his handkerchief when she was bleeding. But still…

She'd never realized.

Now here he was, offering to take her away from the horror that had become her life.

Away from the queen.

Away from Joffrey.

Away from the fear and abuse and anger.

He was offering to be her salvation. Not a ser, _never_ a ser, but her protector nonetheless.

And even though she knew that she'd be safe, she hadn't been able to say that one word that would open the bars of her cage - _yes_.

The Hound had realized it before even she had, turning without another word and leaving her to deal with whatever was to come.

As the door shut behind Sandor, Sansa came to another startling realization – she'd just shut herself inside her own gilded cage.


	2. The Truth of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s never going to end. Is it?

**The Truth of It**

  
“It’s never going to end. Is it?” The question slipped out of Sansa’s mouth before she could stop it. She hadn’t meant to speak the words— truly, she hadn’t. But as the coppery taste of blood met her tongue, she hadn’t been able to stop herself.  
  
She’d dared to ask Joffrey a question being spoke to first and received a smack to each side of her face for it. The blows had stung, but they weren’t the worst she’d received at his command.  
  
But still, the stinging of her cheeks, such a familiar sensation, had brought tears to her eyes.  
  
Not tears of pain, she’d learned to quell those. Instead, they were tears of desperation and hopelessness.  
  
The second Sansa had heard the king and his guards’ boots echo down the hallway the words had spilled out of her. It wasn’t a new thought, not by any means, but it _was_ the first time the words had found her voice. If _anyone_ in the castle had heard her…  
  
“No little bird, it’s not.” The voice was a harsh whisper filled with something akin to sadness.  
  
Sansa gasped softly, quickly covering her mouth as she turned to face the Hound. He was standing behind her, a curious expression in his eyes. Her mind instantly began to flit from one horrible scenario to another. Would he tell Joffrey what she’d just said? Or maybe the queen?  
  
Trembling hand still pressed to her mouth, she stared up at the Hound.  
  
A second ago she’d been terrified of what he would do. Just as quickly as those fears had arrived, they drifted away. Somehow she knew, very deep down, that he would not breathe a word of what she’d just said. And when he nodded at her sadly she understood the truth of it.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Squeeka Cuomo’s Notes**  
>  \- This fic was written for the weekly drabble post at sansan_got. The theme was "A hound will die for you, but never lie to you."  
> \- Thanks so much to simplyprologue for the beta. :)  
> \- Reviews are love.


	3. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once, he didn’t fear the fire.

**Fire**

  
Fire.  
  
Burning brightly, enveloping everything around it in a swirl of red.  
  
The Hound has always hated it—hated the popping and crackling, the smell and promise of pain.  
  
But there’s fire in her hair, strands of burning crimson that lick at the pale skin of her cheeks.  
  
Sansa Stark, despite being a Northerner, is a sweet child of summer. And it’s no more evident than in the shining of her hair. Her warmth stands out, making everyone else pale in comparison, almost as if she is a beacon of light and warmth.  
  
When he arrived in Winterfell, she was the first thing he noticed. Lined up amongst the rest of her siblings and the rest of the people of the keep, she’d stood out like a blazing fire. And at the feast, he’d noticed that even the Queen’s own golden locks seemed dull in comparison.  
  
As he’d watched her sneak little glances at Joffrey, he’d wondered if the heat of her hair flowed through her veins as well. If what he’d seen of the Stark’s was true, it didn’t – they were as cold as their precious winter. But Sansa Stark was different.  
  
And for once, he didn’t fear the fire.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Squeeka Cuomo’s Notes**  
>  \- This fic was written for the weekly drabble post at sansan_got. The theme was "sweet summer child."  
> \- Thanks so much to simplyprologue for the beta. :)  
> \- Reviews are love.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
>  \- This fic was written for the weekly drabble post at sansan_got on LJ. The theme was supposed to be choices, but it ended up being more about realizations.  
> \- Many thanks to simplyprologue for the beta. :)  
> \- Reviews are love.


End file.
